


Athelstan's Breastplate

by yet_intrepid



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Gen, Religious Conflict, Religious Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yet_intrepid/pseuds/yet_intrepid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Athelstan, lonely in his faith, supports and defends himself by praying St. Patrick’s Breastplate throughout the day. Set during episode three, quite early in his captivity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Athelstan's Breastplate

_I arise today_  
 _Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,_  
 _Through the belief in the threeness,_  
 _Through confession of the oneness_  
 _Of the Creator of Creation._

Athelstan recited what he could of the office for Prime as soon as he woke, relying familiarity to push back the immediate surges of despair that came over him without fail as he found himself among strangers and captors rather than brothers, in a harsh pagan world rather than his dormitory at Lindisfarne. But after rising, as he ate and went about the first of his work, he turned to other words, less familiar words.

They had come to him remotely, handed down from St. Aidan, the founder of Lindisfarne, and to him from St. Columba, the founder of Iona, who had reportedly learned them in his youth in Ireland. They were the words of St. Patrick, the Breastplate of Patrick.

And although Athelstan, unlike his captors, went physically clad in flimsy cloth, he knew he nevertheless had spiritual protection. He did not arise with sword and axe to make others cower before him, but he nevertheless arose (each day, against his despair and his fear) in a mighty strength.

Invocation, belief, confession.

In that, he told his trembling soul, there was security.

_I arise today_  
 _Through the strength of Christ’s birth with his baptism,_  
 _Through the strength of his crucifixion with his burial,_  
 _Through the strength of his resurrection with his ascension,_  
 _Through the strength of his descent for the judgment of Doom._

There was strength in birth, he reflected after he’d murmured Terce to himself, sometimes gasping out the words as he lifted sacks of animal feed or of wool for Lagertha’s loom. There was strength in the incarnation, of course, in God’s becoming man—but there was strength in the birth itself, too. Strength in infancy. Strength in weakness.

Strength in Christ’s baptism, in his crucifixion—and there, more vulnerability yet. Pain, anguish, nakedness just as in birth, but this time on display. There was strength in Christ’s pain, for Athelstan was not alone in his.

Burial, resurrection, ascension. Strength even in a seeming loss of hope, then strength in renewed life, and then…strength in a blessed return home. But as Jesus returned home, the disciples were left lonely.

And that, Athelstan realized, releasing air from his lungs, is why, even though we rightfully dread the Last Judgment, we also find strength in hoping again for his descent. Because then, if we are found faithful, we go home.

And that home always awaits, even if I never—

But he could not finish that thought. Not if he wanted to keep any strength at all.

_I arise today_  
 _Through the strength of the love of cherubim,_  
 _In obedience of angels,_  
 _In the service of archangels,_  
 _In hope of resurrection to meet with reward,_  
 _In prayers of patriarchs,_  
 _In predictions of prophets,_  
 _In preaching of apostles,_  
 _In faith of confessors,_  
 _In innocence of holy virgins,_  
 _In deeds of righteous men._

After eating the noon meal, he went fishing and recited the office for Sext standing barefoot in the cool water as the sun beamed down. When he had finished, he moved onwards in Patrick’s Breastplate, reminding himself that he was not alone. Countless others—the patriarchs, the prophets, the apostles, and later the saints, holy virgins and righteous men—had endured as much as or more than he.

He was alone in person, but in mighty company in spirit.

If all the qualities of those who had suffered and endured, of those who had served through questions, might lend him strength, perhaps he would not be destroyed by this after all.

_I arise today_  
 _Through the strength of heaven:_  
 _Light of sun,_  
 _Radiance of moon,_  
 _Splendor of fire,_  
 _Speed of lightning,_  
 _Swiftness of wind,_  
 _Depth of sea,_  
 _Stability of earth,_  
 _Firmness of rock._

He said the next section of the Breastplate after Nones, but he could not put his heart in it. The heavens, the sun, the sea, the earth, the rocks—that strength was not and could not be his. He was in the land of his captors, and the strength of that land, created by God though it was, was theirs. They had mastered the waves and come over the sea, heralded by lightning, to kill his brothers. They had set fire to his home, to the beautiful sacred texts that were his life’s work. They managed to live among the cold mountains and nevertheless work the earth, to endure the wind as they traveled in an open boat.

And with every sun and moon that rose, Athelstan felt their power over him more and more keenly.

He had to continue on with the prayer right away as he cleaned the pigs’ stalls and spread hay, else he would have been lost in consciousness of his own weakness:

_I arise today_  
 _Through God’s strength to pilot me:_  
 _God’s might to uphold me,_  
 _God’s wisdom to guide me,_  
 _God’s eye to look before me,_  
 _God’s ear to hear me,_  
 _God’s word to speak for me,_  
 _God’s hand to guard me,_  
 _God’s way to lie before me,_  
 _God’s shield to protect me,_  
 _God’s host to save me_  
 _From snares of devils,_  
 _From temptations of vices,_  
 _From everyone who shall wish me ill,_  
 _Afar and anear,_  
 _Alone and in multitude._

And he said the words over and over, weaving them into the fabric of his heart, deferring the question of whether he had in fact been guided or guarded or protected or saved.

_I summon today all these powers between me and those evils,_  
 _Against every cruel merciless power that may oppose my body and soul,_  
 _Against incantations of false prophets,_  
 _Against black laws of pagandom,_  
 _Against false laws of heretics,_  
 _Against craft of idolatry,_  
 _Against spells of witches and smiths and wizards,_  
 _Against every knowledge that corrupts man’s body and soul._  
 _Christ to shield me today_  
 _Against poison, against burning,_  
 _Against drowning, against wounding,_  
 _So that there may come to me abundance of reward._

After the evening meal, he prayed Vespers and, uneasy in Ragnar’s presence, was grateful that St. Patrick gave words to his inarticulate pleas for safety. Lagertha sat with the children to talk to them of their gods, and Ragnar, who was acting the part of Odin for the children, stared at Athelstan with a spark in his incomprehensible eyes, and Athelstan dropped his head and hid himself in the prayer.

The family also began to pray after a few minutes, strange words and references addressed to strange gods. Athelstan felt every word like a finger prodding at the barely-scabbing wounds of loneliness that had been inflicted on his heart. He ought to be among his brothers at this time of day. He ought to be at mass, joining them in song to God, not praying desperately for protection against pagan captors as they prayed unholy prayers.

He thought of rising, of leaving the house until they had finished, but decided against it. He could not risk Ragnar’s wrath by seeming to try to escape or anything of the like, not if he wanted to keep his life.

_Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,_  
 _Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,_  
 _Christ on my right, Christ on my left,_  
 _Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, Christ when I arise,_  
 _Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,_  
 _Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,_  
 _Christ in every eye that sees me,_  
 _Christ in every ear that hears me._

Tonight he was able to recite the office of Compline in peace, accosted by no temptations, no one exerting pressure upon his vows. He kept awake until Lagertha and Ragnar had fallen asleep, then lay back and breathed in the dark silence, begging that Christ would surround him and almost— _almost_ —feeling that it was so. With as companion, before as guide, behind as rearguard. Within to renew, beneath to support, above to intercede. On right and left to watch and protect and accompany.

Present. Despite everything, present.

He held St. John’s Gospel close against his chest. In the presence, there was strength, and if God gave grace then there would be strength again tomorrow.

_I arise today_  
 _Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,_  
 _Through belief in the threeness,_  
 _Through confession of the oneness,_  
 _Of the Creator of Creation._


End file.
